Forgotten
by Miles333
Summary: Post movie. Hatter is mugged and left in the street for dead. He wakes up in a hospital, unable to remember who he is. How will Alice find him? Or will she lose the love of her life forever? Alice/Hatter
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** Must I say it? _Alice_ doesn't belong to me. It belongs to SyFy and Lewis Carroll. And now I feel depressed… *sniffles*

**A/N:** Enjoy!

**Summary:** Post movie. Hatter is mugged and left in the street for dead. He wakes up in a hospital, unable to remember who he is. How will Alice find him? Or will she lose the love of her life forever? Alice/Hatter

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Prologue

Hatter really didn't understand Oysters. They all had their little routines and habits that couldn't be broken, no matter what, or their lives would immediately slide into chaos. Such as wearing the same color sock on each foot. He really didn't understand that. Or why it was socially unacceptable to wear certain clothes in public. He loved the silk plaid pajama pants he had bought a few weeks ago, but Alice wouldn't let him wear them in public for some reason.

He loved Alice, too. That was the only reason he put up with all the funny little habits of hers, like watching celebrity shows on the telly almost religiously, or refusing to use anything except peach-scented body lotion. He didn't care what she did, as long as she didn't tire of him and leave for someone better. He couldn't help having that thought constantly at the back of his mind, no matter what he did to get rid of it. It was always there.

He woke one morning, after staying up late to watch one of the mentioned celebrity shows with Alice, to find pandemonium.

As he opened his eyes, reflexively reaching out for Alice, he found that she wasn't there. Her pillow was still dented in the exact shape of her head, but the sheets were cold. She had been gone a while. He got up from the bed and changed into a silk shirt and tie, along with some patterned trousers. He flipped his hat onto his head, then went in search of his Alice.

It was strange now that she was living with him. In a good way, obviously, but strange nonetheless. Jack's flat had been his, and his alone, for almost three months before she had come to a decision to move from her mother's place and join him. Now he constantly found bras hanging on the bathroom doorknob and pink razors in the shower and a new floral shampoo to replace the kind he normally used. It had taken some getting used to, almost a week, but now he had fallen into a regular rhythm. He enjoyed sharing a home with Alice. The only thing he didn't enjoy was her cooking. He made sure to take care of dinner every night, not only to save them from any potential arguments, but also to prevent either of them from getting food poisoning.

He found Alice in the kitchen, dressed in her spotless white _gi_ for the beginner's class she was scheduled to teach that morning. Her dark hair hadn't yet been pulled back into a ponytail, hanging instead in tangled strands around her face. She was bent over to reach into the refrigerator, staring intently inside.

Hatter wrapped his arms around her from behind. She straightened, leaning back into his embrace. "Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?" He nuzzled the top of her head with his face, breathing in the strong scent of peaches.

"Fine," she said, pulling away and turning to face him. His arms dropped loosely to his sides. "Hatter, I've got to be at the dojo in an hour, and I haven't even finished getting ready yet."

He nodded, easily hearing the tension in her voice. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes, of _course_ something's wrong!" she cried, pale cheeks flushing with color. "There's no more milk!" She turned back to the refrigerator and lifted the empty plastic bottle to show him. Only a tiny amount of white liquid remained in the very bottom.

"I think I used the last of it in the casserole last night," he said. "Sorry, love. I'll pick some up later."

"I can't have cereal without milk, Hatter," she said. It was true. This was another little unbreakable Oyster routine, as Hatter had learned. Though he thought that it tasted quite good when dry.

He turned to go get his coat from the rack in the living room. He didn't even ask why she couldn't have something else, like toast or eggs. Alice liked to have cereal and _only_ cereal every morning before going to the dojo, because anything else made her feel too full. She had for as long as Hatter had known her, and wasn't likely to change that habit overnight.

"I'll be back soon," he said over one shoulder, opening the door while shrugging into his coat. She looked around the corner of the kitchen, still holding the empty milk bottle. He mimed blowing her a kiss, and she returned the gesture, though not as enthusiastically as usual. But he didn't mind; after all, it was still early, and no one could be expected to be completely cheerful when they'd only just woken up. He stepped out into the hall and was gone.

He hurried down the hallway, footsteps muffled by the thick red carpet, then across the lobby and out onto the sidewalk. The cold wind was biting, blowing across his exposed face. He made sure his hat was secure and pulled his coat closed. He set off at a brisk walk, towards the closest convenience store. If he hurried, he could be back with the milk before Alice had to leave, and she could eat her cereal and be off for the dojo right on time.

The store was only a few blocks away, so it didn't take him long to reach at a brisk walk. He went inside and straight to the freezers at the back, where he picked out a brand of milk Alice liked. He went up to the front and placed it on the counter. A bored-looking teenager rang up the purchase and waited impatiently. It took him a minute to count out the right amount. Even now he still had trouble with Oyster money. It just didn't make any sense.

After paying, Hatter took his receipt and the milk and left the store. He strode towards the flat, cutting down a trash-strewn alleyway to make up for lost time while checking his watch. If he kept up the pace, he was definitely going to make it. Alice could have her cereal with milk and be off to the dojo. He could stay home and clean up the flat, since today was his day off from work, and then he could surprise her with a nice dinner when she came home again. And maybe some of those scented candles she liked, to make things…romantic.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't even notice the figure stalking him through the shadows of the alley. He didn't notice it coming closer and closer, or the deadly weapon rising into the air.

Something solid slammed into the back of his head, and Hatter went down hard. The container of milk hit the ground and exploded, white liquid flying everywhere. The concrete tore into his palms, drawing blood. All he could see was stars, twinkling strangely around the corners of his vision.

Before he could recover, the object hit him again, this time in the middle of his back. The sudden pain cleared his muddled brain, and he quickly rolled over onto his back, clenching the fingers of his right hand into a fist as he prepared to fight back.

It was too late. Now a knife slashed downward through the air, piercing the skin of his stomach. Again, again, again. All he could see was a strange gray fog, circling around the masked face of his attacker. And then, when it seemed like the crescendoing pain couldn't possibly get any worse, a baseball bat came down through the air and crashed into his head.

Everything spiraled into blackness.

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**Please review, everyone. This is my first _Alice_ fic, so I'm kind of nervous about it. Does everyone seem in character? Be sure to let me know! :D**


	2. Chapter One

**Disclaimer:** Must I say it? _Alice_ doesn't belong to me. It belongs to SyFy and Lewis Carroll. And now I feel depressed… *sniffles*

**A/N:** Thanks muchly for all the amazing reviews, guys. I'm so happy that you liked the prologue! :D

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Chapter One

Alice paced by the front door of the apartment she shared with Hatter. She had finished getting ready, except for her breakfast, and there was still no sign of him. She had called him several times, but he hadn't picked up. Was he mad at her for making him go get the milk? Or maybe he'd lost his phone somewhere. But that didn't seem like him. He loved his phone; he had only gotten around to buying one last week, and thought it was a positively brilliant Oyster invention. So if he hadn't lost it...

She checked her watch for the thousandth time. If she didn't leave soon, she was going to be late. _If he knew he wasn't going to be back in time, he should have just called,_ she thought angrily, as her stomach gave a small growl of hunger. She strode back into the kitchen and impatiently dug around in the refrigerator for a bagel she could eat on the way to the dojo. At the same time, she dialed a number and held the phone to her ear.

After three rings, her mother picked up. "Alice, dear. I thought you taught a class this morning."

"I do," she said, kicking the refrigerator door closed. "I'm leaving now. I just wanted to ask that if you hear from Hatter, will you have him call me?"

"Did you two have a fight? Oh, Alice, you shouldn't push the boy so much. He's not used to long-term relationships, isn't that what you told me once?"

"No, Mom, we didn't have a fight." She thought of the way she had snapped at him about the milk. Did that count as a fight? Oh God, what if he thought it _was_ a fight? What if he wasn't coming back? She quickly shoved these disturbing thoughts out of her head. "Well, not really. Look, will you just tell him to call my cell phone? He went out to get some milk earlier and he hasn't come back yet. I'm worried about him."

"Maybe he just ran into one of his friends and got to talking," her mother said reasonably. "I'm sure there's no reason to worry, Alice."

"Hatter doesn't have any friends," she said. Well, not that she knew of. There were a couple of people he worked with at the café that he talked about sometimes, but she had never really listened. She sighed heavily, embarrassed to realize her own lack of interest in her boyfriend's life away from her, and glanced at her watch again. "Okay, I've really got to go. The beginners are going to think I'm a total slacker for being so late."

"I'll tell David to call you as soon as I hear from him," Carol said. "Don't worry, Alice. I'm sure he was only caught up in traffic or something. You know how this city is."

She nodded slowly, even though she knew her mother couldn't see her. "Okay. Thanks, Mom." She hung up the phone and slid it into her pocket, then stuffed the bagel into her mouth and slammed out the front door.

* * *

Emily Cabot pushed the back door of her apartment building wide open, lugging the heavy sack of trash behind her. She let the door fall shut behind her with a metallic clang, which echoed ominously through the empty alleyway. She strode towards the already-overflowing dumpster without looking back, mouth set in a thin line.

God, Zach was such an asshole. He thought that just because Emily's mother let him shack up with her, that meant that Emily would let him take her, as well. Grasping fingers brushing her butt as she walked by… She shuddered violently, though not from the cold. _Not in this lifetime,_ she thought darkly.

Reaching the dumpster, she slung the heavy bag up into it, arm muscles straining. She brushed her hands against her jeans and glanced back towards the building. She really had no reason to go back inside right now. Her mother would never even know she was missing. In fact, the only thing waiting for her other than her dilapidated bed was Zach. And he was in a _mood_ this morning.

She shook her head and started towards the exit from the alley, both hands stuffed deep into her pockets. Maybe Shakira would let her stay over for the day. And night. It was better than staying cooped up in that hellhole for another minute. Winter break couldn't end fast enough. God, she couldn't wait to go back to school.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't even notice the body until she'd tripped over it. It was a young man with dark hair, sprawled limply across the concrete. A jug of milk had fallen and erupted open beside him, and a black porkpie hat lay on the ground beside his hand.

But that wasn't really the most noticeable thing about him.

"Oh my God. Oh my God." Emily fell to her knees beside him, gawking with horrified fascination at the dark blood oozing through the fabric of his shirt. She had never seen so much blood in her life. His head was also bleeding, and there was a terrible bruise on his forehead.

She fumbled to check for a pulse at the base of his throat, calling on knowledge collected from various medical shows on television. There was only a faint, steady thrumming, but it meant he was alive. Which of course was good. How much more would her day suck if she stumbled across a murder victim?

"Hey, can you hear me? You, the unconscious guy. Come on, wake _up_!" She slapped him lightly on the cheek, but he didn't stir. She could feel herself starting to get the slightest bit hysterical. What was she supposed to do with him? She couldn't just leave him. The stain of blood on his shirtfront was rapidly growing larger and larger. And then it hit her.

She quickly pulled her cell phone from a pocket and dialed 911.

* * *

Carol paused to catch her breath at the top of the stairs, then continued on until she reached the right door, heels clicking against the carpet. She pulled out the spare key Hatter had given her a few weeks ago and slid it into the lock. The doorknob turned in her hand, and she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

The living room was dark, strewn with articles of Alice's clothing and a few books and other odds and ends. She flipped a light switch into the upright position, causing light to flood the room, and glanced around. "Hello? David, are you here?" There was no answer, no sign that anyone had been present in the apartment for several hours.

She checked the kitchen and bedroom just to be safe, but found that her suspicions had been correct. The apartment was completely empty. Hatter wasn't there.

Carol went back into the living room and sank down onto the couch. She held her cell phone in both hands and stared at it. What was she going to tell Alice? The poor girl had called her twice since going to the dojo, wanting to know if Hatter had shown up yet. She'd explained, practically in tears, about how she had crossly sent him out to pick up milk first thing, wanting to know if that was considered a fight. How was she supposed to tell her daughter that it didn't appear he'd come back since leaving that morning?

On cue, the phone's tiny screen lit up, her daughter's number clearly displayed. She bit her lip, then pressed the send button. "Alice, darling, I'm sorry. David isn't here. I'm at your apartment now."

"What?" Alice's voice broke, and she didn't say anything else for a minute. "Maybe...maybe he came back, then left again. Maybe his boss wanted him to pull some extra hours down at the café."

"Yes, I'm sure that's it." She didn't even believe it herself.

"I'll call the café now and check on him. Just to be sure."

"Alice, don't. David needs some time to himself. Let him be for now."

"D-do you really think he's mad at me?" Alice said tremulously. "I didn't mean to sound hateful this morning about the milk, I really didn't. Oh, Mom, what if he doesn't come back?"

"He'll come back," her mother said confidently. "David isn't cruel. He wouldn't do this to you, not without talking over the situation with you first. He's probably just at the café. Give him some time, and he'll be back by the time you get home this evening."

Alice cleared her throat. Carol imagined her nodding briskly and trying to get a hold of herself again. "Okay. Okay, I'll just wait and talk to him tonight, then. God, I hope he isn't really mad."

"Everything will be fine, dear. Now get back to your class. I think you've probably kept them waiting long enough."

"Thanks, Mom. Talk to you later."

"Of course." Carol hung up and stared down at the phone in silence. She could only pray that what she had told Alice was right, and that Hatter would be back by nightfall. If he wasn't…

She sighed and got to her feet. Turning out the light, she left the apartment, locking the door behind her.

* * *

When he woke, he was lying on a firm mattress, covered with a thin blanket. A steady beeping filled the room around him, which was white and sterile. His body felt strangely detached, as though it was floating, and there was a strange taste at the back of his throat.

"Welcome back. I didn't think we were going to be able to wake you." The calm, cool voice drew his attention to the thin blond man standing over him. He wore a white coat with several fresh red stains on the front. Maybe he was a doctor.

He tried to speak, but his throat was too dry. Almost painfully so. All that came out was a strangled croak.

"Nurse." The doctor nodded once, and a woman appeared beside the bed, holding a small paper cup. She gently held it to his lips, and he greedily sucked in a sip. He tried to drink more, but she took the cup away.

"You shouldn't drink too much, sir," she said. "You've been badly injured."

Badly injured? He didn't remember being badly injured. In fact…

"Sir," the doctor said, drawing his attention again. "Sir, can you tell me your name?"

Name? "I," he began slowly, voice rough, "I can't remember."

The doctor exchanged a look with the nurse, who looked somewhat alarmed. "Your name, sir. Think carefully, and I'm sure it will come back to you."

"I-I don't know," he said. "There's just…nothing."

"I was afraid of as much." The doctor shone a light into his eyes. He tried not to flinch away. It was much too bright, and made his eyes burn. "Sir, you were found in the street by a young girl and brought in just a few hours ago."

"In? Where…am I?" He tried to sit up, but found he couldn't. The pain in his lower abdomen was incredible. He collapsed limply against the pillows again, gritting his teeth and struggling to keep breathing.

"Just stay calm," the doctor said. He gestured to the nurse again, and she let him have another sip. "You're in a hospital. You were brought in with four stab wounds to the abdomen, possibly from a knife, and a several bleeding head wounds."

So that was what the pain was. He felt somehow relieved to know, but couldn't help being the slightest bit concerned. If he had really been injured that badly, why couldn't he remember it happening?

"The good news is," the doctor went on, "that the knife missed all your internal organs. I was able to stitch the skin together again, and though it will take some time, your body will heal properly and be as good as new before long. You'll have some impressive scars to show for this whole ordeal, I would imagine."

All this talking was making his head ache. He could barely think. His eyes were even watering. The strange taste at the back of his throat had only gotten stronger.

"But the head wounds appear to have given you a severe concussion, evidently resulting in widespread memory loss. It…may take some time before you recover from that."

"Isn't there some way for you to tell who I am?" he asked, starting to feel a little desperate. The edges of his vision were strangely gray, and his head was throbbing now.

"All signs point to you having been attacked by some sort of street thief, one who took your cell phone and all identification. I'm afraid that we'll have no way of knowing your identity until you regain your memory."

He frowned, trying hard to think. He needed to remember; he _had_ to remember. There was something important lurking near the back of his mind, something more important than his name or even where he lived. Something…

"Sir, please don't try too hard," the doctor urged. "Thinking too extensively after a concussion as severe as yours can cause some damage–"

There was something there now, emerging from the shadows near the back of his brain. A blue dress? "Alice," he whispered, the name appearing unbidden on his lips.

Then he fell into the all-consuming blackness and knew no more.

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Something important to remember: reviews = a girl's best friend! :D


	3. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer:** Must I say it? _Alice_ doesn't belong to me. It belongs to SyFy and Lewis Carroll. And now I feel depressed… *sniffles*

**A/N:** Yay, I'm so glad that you guys enjoyed the last chapter! Thanks so much for all the reviews!

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Chapter Two

When his eyes opened next, he found himself still lying in the same bed. That steady beeping surrounded him. The doctor was gone, but the nurse from before was sitting in a chair across from him. When she saw that he was awake, she hurried over and picked up the cup beside his bed and offered him a sip. He drank greedily before she took it away again, all too soon. "There, now. Don't drink too much," she said. "Remember, you'll only feel worse if you drink more than you should too early."

He wasn't convinced that she wasn't making all that up, but didn't say so out loud. He thought again about sitting up, but remembering the agonizing pain in his abdomen the last time he had tried, and decided against it.

"Would you like something to eat? Dr. Willing said that you could eat a little once you woke up again. We decided it would be best not to wake you up until you'd gotten a little rest, because of the concussion. And now that you have, we're going to have to wake you up every thirty minutes, I'm afraid."

He blinked a few times, trying to catch up with her words. She was surprisingly chatty. "I'll have a bite, yeah," he said. He was relieved when his voice came out sounding almost normal, instead of so rough and dry.

"Wonderful. I'll be back in a few minutes," the nurse said brightly. "Just stay in your bed, dear, and you'll be eating before you know it." She disappeared out the door, closing it behind her.

He looked towards the room's single window, which was covered by a set of thin curtains. Hardly any light shone through, which made him think it was nearly nightfall. The thought was mildly disconcerting. He really needed to be somewhere…

He sighed and ran one hand through his hair with frustration. He could feel it sticking up now, but ignored it. Why couldn't he _remember_ anything? It was terribly frustrating. And how long would he have to wait before his memory finally did come back? Or would it ever?

Even though it felt like she had only just left, the door opened again and the nurse came back. She was wheeling a small cart with a platter of food on it. He thought he saw something that looked like mashed potatoes, and maybe some corn, but the rest of the colorful glop was unrecognizable. She didn't seem to notice how horrible the supposed food looked to him, wheeling it over and setting the platter on his lap. "There you are, dear. Eat slowly, and you should be fine."

The door opened and closed again. He looked up and saw the blond doctor from before, who had changed out of his bloodied coat and into a much cleaner one. "Hi there," he said jovially, coming around to shine the light into his eyes again. "How are you feeling?"

He shrugged and used a plastic spoon to taste some of the mashed potatoes. They didn't taste like any potatoes he'd ever eaten before, but that didn't stop him from taking another bite, then another. He was starving.

The doctor nodded again, like this was the right answer, and put the light away. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Dr. Willing, and this is Nurse O'Connor. I'm going to ask you a few questions now, to try and determine how selective your memory loss is."

He nodded. That didn't sound too bad. He had finished the potatoes, and now started on the corn.

"Can you tell me what day it is, sir?"

He paused and thought as hard as he could, but nothing came back. "I don't know," he said. "Can't remember."

"The President of the United States?"

"President?" The term sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't think why. "That's the leader of everyone, right?"

Dr. Willing nodded encouragingly.

"The Queen of Hearts," he said, without hardly even having to think about it. The image of a large woman in a red dress popped into his mind's eye. A smaller man in black stood just behind her, nervously twisting his hands together. Yes, that seemed right.

"The Queen of–" Dr. Willing broke off and shook his head. "You're from the UK, is that right? I'm just going by your accent, mind..."

"The what? Is that a city? I've never heard of it," he said.

"Oh, dear," Nurse O'Connor said.

"I'm afraid we'll need to run some tests, sir, as soon as possible," Dr. Willing said gravely. "It seems that the damage to your brain…well, we'll talk about that later, once you're feeling better." He turned to the nurse. "Will you stay with him and ask a few more questions? I need to go check on the GSW victim in room two eighty."

"Yes, I'll stay." She watched the doctor go, then pulled up a chair beside the bed. "Just a few more questions, then you can rest again," she said. "Can you remember how old you are?"

He frowned. "Around fifty, I think. Maybe more or less. I don't know."

"Um," she said. "All right. How about where you live? Can you remember where you live? An address, perhaps?"

"Somewhere with tea," he said. "And lots of grass. _Lots_ of grass."

She blinked a few times. "Okay. And do you remember anyone who might be looking for you, who might be worried? Parents, maybe? Children? A wife or girlfriend?"

Suddenly, the food he'd eaten didn't taste so good anymore. He felt a little sick. His head started throbbing again, and he swallowed convulsively. "No," he said, fighting back the fog he could feel trying to overwhelm him. "There's no one."

And then he threw up.

"Oh, dear," Nurse O'Connor tutted. "I was afraid that might happen. We'd better get you all cleaned up."

* * *

Emily sat in a hard plastic chair in the hospital waiting room, hands twined tightly together in her lap. In the chair beside her was the black porkpie hat, which she had picked up after the EMTs had arrived to take away the injured man. She had insisted on coming along in the ambulance, even though she hadn't the foggiest idea who the man was. She just somehow felt that she should make sure he was okay, since she had been the one to call 911. And she thought he might like his hat back, as well.

She had been waiting for hours, dully watching people come and go like ants scurrying between their anthills. She had asked a nurse about the man, once, but the woman had been incredibly rude and said that she had no idea what Emily was talking about. Needless to say, Emily wasn't very happy about that.

The only good thing that had come out of her long wait was that she had sauntered into the cafeteria and helped herself to some of the free food there. The cafeteria staff had mistakenly assumed she was a visiting relative of one of the patients, and hadn't tried to stop her. The food hadn't been anything to write home about, but it had filled her empty stomach.

And she still hadn't received a call or even a text from her mother, wondering where she was, so she wasn't in any particular mood to go back to the apartment anytime soon.

It had been at least another hour since her trip to the cafeteria, and Emily had since then browsed every outdated magazine on display in the large waiting room. She was starting to get a little annoyed. She may not have been a relative of that man, but she had found him, and she deserved to know if he would live, didn't she?

Huffing a sigh and ignoring the bored stares of the few other people scattered through the room, she marched up to the front desk. An overweight receptionist with a pile of black hair atop her head was reading a romance novel. She looked up when Emily approached, but didn't put the book down. "Excuse me," Emily said, as politely as she could manage. "I'm here to see a man. He was brought in this morning with, well, I think they were knife wounds. Three or four of them, the EMTs said. I don't know his name, but I really need to know his room number."

"Visiting hours are over," the woman said, blowing a very large pink bubble and then popping it with her tongue to punctuate her words.

"I know that," Emily said through gritted teeth. "But I have something that belongs to him, and I just want to go in and out really quick–"

"If you aren't family, you aren't allowed in. And visiting hours are over." The woman turned a page in her book.

Emily bit down hard on her lower lip to keep from saying something she might regret later, then stomped back to her seat, to which she had become very accustomed to sitting in for the past few hours. She plopped down and sulkily picked up one of the old magazines.

"God. I had to go help Grace with the amnesic in room 133." Emily looked up and saw a young blond nurse join the receptionist behind the desk, looking incredibly irritated. "He puked everywhere. It was like a geyser or something. Mashed-up corn and potatoes _everywhere_. God, I hate this job sometimes. God."

It was the way the receptionist involuntarily glanced over at where she was sitting that clued Emily in. She very carefully looked down at the magazine in her hands and turned a couple of pages, pretending not to have heard. In reality, her mind was spinning. The guy she'd found had amnesia now? That was too weird. Nothing interesting _ever_ happened to her. But now there was _this_.

She bided her time, waiting patiently until the receptionist picked up the ringing phone and answered it. Then she put down her magazine, grabbed the man's porkpie hat, and crept off to find room 133.

* * *

"Hatter!" Alice kicked the front door closed behind her and slung her coat and purse onto the sofa. She'd had a long, hard day at dojo, and worrying about him the entire time hadn't helped matters much. "Hatter?" She turned on a lamp, and dim light flooded the dark living room. It was completely empty. She checked the other rooms, but they were just as empty. There was no sign of him.

She went back to the living room and sat down hard on the sofa. She put her head in her hands and took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. There was no need to panic. Everything was going to be just fine. He was probably just held up somewhere.

She frowned, then quickly pulled out her cell phone. She brought up the number for the café where Hatter worked, which he had programmed into her phone sometime earlier, and raised it to her ear. Then she waited, holding her breath, as the phone rang and rang and rang.

Finally, a voice that she recognized as Mr. Richmond, owner of the café, picked up. "Hello?"

"Mr. Richmond? This is Alice Hamilton, David's girlfriend? We met once?" She swore mentally when she realized that every sentence she'd spoken had come out sounding like a question.

"Oh, I remember," the elderly man said pleasantly. "Hi, Alice. Was there something I could help you with, sweetheart?"

"Could I talk to, um, David?" she blurted out, before she could change her mind and hang up. "I swear it will only take a minute, but we had a fight this morning, see, sort of, and I just _really_ need to–"

"Alice," he said, cutting into her babbling. "I'm sorry, but David isn't here right now. Today was his day off."

The bottom of her stomach dropped out, and she was suddenly very dizzy. The brightly patterned wallpaper seemed to spin around her. "What? But I thought he was…" She stopped and took a deep breath. "Okay. Okay, thanks, Mr. Richmond."

"Was something–" he began.

"I've got to go. I'm sorry." She hung up and took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself down.

How could Hatter do this to her? How could he leave her behind like this? She curled up into a ball on the couch and clutched one of the throw pillows to her chest, fighting back tears.

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Thanks for reading! :)


	4. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer:** Must I say it? _Alice_ doesn't belong to me. It belongs to SyFy and Lewis Carroll. And now I feel depressed… *sniffles*

**A/N:** Thanks to **duchessfaleen**, **Brumeier**, **CupofTeaforAliceandHatter**, **BlueEyes444**, **Alaina Downs**, **Rue Mo**, **catesy**, and **Weasley430** for reviewing on the last chapter!

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Chapter Three

Alice couldn't bring herself to move from the sofa for around half an hour. Her worst nightmare had finally come true. She couldn't even bring herself to cry; she was completely numb. Hatter was gone, and he probably wasn't coming back. He had taken his favorite hat when he went out to get milk that morning, after all. He had probably gone back to Wonderland to open another illegal Tea shop and help resurrect the Queen's kingdom.

She immediately felt guilty for this thought and slowly sat up, rubbing at her eyes. Hatter would never do that. He had hated the treatment of the poor Oysters as much as she had. And no matter what else he did, even if he left her and went back to Wonderland, he would never get involved with Tea again. She knew that much.

She stared around the cold, empty apartment for a few minutes, then picked up her cell phone again and dialed a number. She released a deep, shaky breath and waited for her mother to pick up. "Alice?"

"Mom, he's gone," she said in a rush, words running together. "Hatter's gone. He still isn't back yet, and when I called the café, Mr. Richmond said he hadn't been in all day. Oh, Mom, what am I going to _do_?"

"Alice. Alice, calm down," Carol said soothingly. Under the sound of her voice, Alice heard the television playing loudly. "Are you sure that David hadn't come back? Maybe he left a note somewhere and you just didn't see it."

"Just a minute. I'll go check." Hardly daring to hope, she ran into the kitchen and checked the refrigerator, where she frequently found sweet little notes from him, pinned under an apple-shaped magnet. But there was nothing, apart from the grocery list he had started carefully composing a few days ago. She traced her finger over his loopy handwriting, then turned around and leaned heavily against the refrigerator. "No, there's nothing," she said, and wetness flooded her eyes as the tears she'd been fighting back finally came.

"Now, Alice, don't cry," her mother said, apparently hearing the telltale tears in Alice's voice. "I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why he hasn't come back to the apartment yet."

"What?" she said thickly, sniffling and trying to see through the tears in her eyes. She scrubbed angrily at them with the back of one hand, and it came away smeared with mascara.

Carol didn't answer.

"He's left me, Mom, just admit it. He's left me, and he's gone back to Wonderland!"

"I'm sure that's not the case," she said uncomfortably. Even though she had long ago been let in on the secret of where Hatter was actually from, she was hesitant to talk about it. The story was simply too fanciful for her tastes, not that she didn't believe it. She just preferred to…avoid the subject.

Alice pushed away from the refrigerator and kicked it as hard as she could. Her injured toes throbbed in protest, but she ignored the minor pain. "I'm never going to see him again, am I? After all that we went through, all we did together. We stopped the Queen of Hearts and her whole damn regime together, for God's sake–"

"Oh my Lord. Oh my…Alice, turn on the news, right now," Carol said suddenly. There was something wrong with her voice. It sounded too high-pitched, for one thing.

"What are you talking about? Mom, I don't have time to–"

"Alice, turn on the TV _now_," she said.

Because she sounded so strange, Alice did as she said. She went into the living room and found the TV remote. She pressed the right button, and the TV flared to life. "What channel?" she asked bleakly. How was she supposed to concentrate on watching whatever it was that her mother wanted her to see when Hatter was gone for good?

"Channel 10. Alice, hurry."

She flipped through the channels and turned up the volume. "Mom, can't you just…" Her voice trailed off in shock as she stared at the television, and she quickly fumbled to turn up the volume again.

On the screen was a video of a trash-strewn alleyway just a few blocks from her apartment, one she recognized well. She had to walk past it every time she went to the convenience store to pick a little something up. It looked very different than what she was used to, though, because of the yellow crime scene tape across the mouth of the alley and the flashing ambulance parked just inside. As she stared, several EMTs rolled a gurney up into the back of the ambulance, slamming the doors.

A pretty brunette reporter replaced the video. "This troubling scene took place earlier today, in a remote neighborhood near the middle of the city," she said brightly. "A young man was assaulted and beaten, then left alone in an alley. Our sources tell us that a young girl who has yet to be identified found the unfortunate victim, and called 911. Both were taken to Good Hope Hospital, where the victim's condition is said to be hopeful. And though the hospital staff refused to release much information about the victim, Dr. Nick Willing had this to say earlier."

A blond man in a white coat appeared onscreen, standing in a busy hospital corridor. He glanced over his shoulder, then looked back at the camera. "The victim is a man who appears to be in his late twenties, with brown hair and brown eyes. He was found wearing a brown leather jacket and a silk shirt and pants. He speaks with what appears to be a British accent. The trauma to his head has resulted in memory loss that I'm optimistic is only temporary, though all possible identification was taken by his attackers. He can't remember his name or where he lives, though earlier he did say one name. Alice. I'm sorry, I can't say anything else."

The reporter replaced the blond doctor, looking appropriately grim. "If anyone thinks they may know this man, Dr. Willing requests that you come to Good Hope Hospital and identify him. And now over to Jake with the weather–"

Alice didn't hear anything else, despite the TV's loud volume. Her legs had gone weak. She collapsed onto the sofa, barely remembering to hold onto the phone still pressed to her ear. "Oh my God. Oh my God, Mom, that was _Hatter_." There was a dull ringing in her ears. "He's in the _hospital_. With _amnesia_. Oh my God."

Relief surged through her. He hadn't left her, not willingly. But the relief was almost instantly overtaken by horror and fear. How badly had he been injured? Was he afraid, alone and unable to remember anything? And would the amnesia ever wear off? Her chest was tight, and she could barely breathe.

"Get ready," Carol said. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

* * *

After Nurse O'Connor had cleaned him up and left the room again, he lay in bed and stared blankly at the spotless wall across from him. His whole body ached, especially his head and abdomen, and there was an acidic taste in his mouth. He felt horrible, and all he wanted to do was sleep. But something was keeping him awake, something he couldn't even remember. The knowledge that he had forgotten something terribly important gnawed away at him.

Outside the closed door, he could hear people hurrying up and down the hall, murmuring quietly to one another.

His right hand clenched into a fist. _Was_ there someone out there to be worried about him? Whenever he thought about it, as hard as he could, all he got was that one image of the blue dress, floating in the blankness of his mind. It should have meant something important to him, he knew, but he couldn't figure out what. Did it belong to a family member, a friend?

He slapped his left palm against his forehead, then bit down hard on his lower lip to keep from swearing out loud. Sharp pain resonated through his entire head, making him dizzy. The pain was so intense that he almost didn't notice the door open and shut behind a blond girl of around seventeen. She came over to his bed and stared down at him with the look one might give a bug trapped under a specimen jar.

"Who're you, then?" he asked after a long pause. He didn't think this could be the missing relative or friend from his memory, because she didn't seem the type to wear that blue dress he saw so clearly.

"Emily Cabot," she said briskly, holding out a hand to shake. He gritted his teeth together and managed to find the strength to lean over and give her his hand. She pumped it briskly, twice, before letting it fall back to the bed. "I'm the one who found you bleeding to death in that alley."

"Alley?" It came back to him then, in a brief flash. A person in a black mask, holding a knife in one hand and a baseball bat in the other. Striking him again and again… "I was attacked by an Oyster," he said wonderingly. "I remember that now. He _stabbed_ me…"

"Oyster?" She gave him a strange look. "What are you _talking_ about?"

He frowned. "I-I don't know. It just sort of came out."

"Uh-huh, whatever. So the nurses out there said you've got amnesia," she said, gesturing over her shoulder with a thumb. "Can't remember who you are or where you're from, am I right?"

"That's why I'm here," he said through gritted teeth. "If I had someone waiting for me, I wouldn't be sitting in here, would I?"

She shrugged. "Good point. Anyway, I came to give you this. I thought you might want it back." She handed him a black porkpie hat, and his hand reflexively reached out to take it. It looked familiar, and felt right in his hand. "There's a name stitched on the inside," she added. "Hatter. Is that your name, d'you think?"

Hatter. He turned the hat over and looked inside. The embroidery spelling out the name was neat and tiny, the thread white. "Hatter," he said out loud, testing the name on his tongue. It sounded right.

"It's probably going to turn out to be the name of the company that made the hat or something, but I'm going to go ahead and call you it for now," Emily said. "Hatter, I mean. It really seems to fit you for some reason."

He nodded and settled the hat atop his head, where it fit as perfectly as the name did. "Could you do me a favor? Not a big one, since we hardly know each other, but a fairly small one," he said.

"I think we know each other a lot," she said. "I had to wash your _blood_ off my hands."

"I was hoping you might consider breaking me out of this place," Hatter said.

"Breaking you out of – are you _crazy_?"

"Quite possibly. I just…I'm ready to get out of here, that's all." He didn't want to mention the fact that the small, clean room was about to drive him mad. There was too much _green_. Green curtains, green blanket, green sheets, green chairs. He'd had a bad experience with the color at one time or another, he supposed.

She shook her head. "I don't know about this."

"Come on, help a bloke out. Besides, I've broken out of _loads_ of places before."

"When?"

"I…can't remember, exactly. But I have done it at one time or another, I'm sure of it," he said. "This place is driving me mad. Please, just help me get the hell out of here. Then I'll be out of your hair, I promise."

She heaved a sigh and wearily rubbed her forehead. "Okay, fine. I guess. But this is totally illegal, you know that, right?"

"If we get caught, I'll distract them while you run, all right?"

"All right, all right! I'll help you."

"Thank you. You won't regret this, I swear." He tried to get out of bed, but collapsed back against the pillows and groaned instead. One hand drifted towards his abdomen, through which was shooting a sharp pain.

"How are we supposed to escape if you can't even walk?" she demanded, planting both hands on her hips.

He grimaced. "I'll think of something." Then his gaze fell on a metal wheelchair in the corner of the room. "How about that, then?"

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Some reviews? Oh, please!


	5. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer:** Must I say it? _Alice_ doesn't belong to me. It belongs to SyFy and Lewis Carroll. And now I feel depressed… *sniffles*

**A/N:** This chapter is dedicated to all of my faithful reviewers. I couldn't write this without your awesome feedback! :D

* * *

Chapter Four

Alice and her mother rushed into Good Hope Hospital, and rode the elevator to the third floor. Alice clutched both hands tightly together in front of her the entire ride, poised to run from the elevator as soon as the doors opened. Carol held onto the straps of her purse just as tightly, biting her lip with anxiety.

Once the elevator opened, they hurried down the busy corridor and to the waiting area. Behind the front desk, an overweight receptionist reading a romance novel looked up with a bored expression as they approached. "If you're not bleeding or exhibiting any immediate dangers to life, take a number and sit down over there," she recited in a bored tone.

"We're here about the man on television, the one with amnesia," Carol said, since she knew Alice was too wound-up to speak properly. "We think that's her boyfriend, David Hatter."

The receptionist immediately brightened. "Is that so? Let me just page Dr. Willing to the front, and he'll take you up to the right room."

"Please hurry," Alice said breathlessly. She couldn't stand the thought of Hatter being alone and injured for a minute longer. She needed to get to him, apologize for the incident with the milk that morning, make him remember her, and then kiss him. In that order.

"Alice," Carol said disapprovingly. "The poor woman can only page that doctor so fast."

She didn't dignify that with an answer, tapping her foot against the floor. She was getting some stares from a few of the people waiting, still dressed in her white _gi_, but tried to ignore them. All that mattered right now was Hatter. She had to know that he was okay.

* * *

Hatter was already regretting his decision to escape the hospital. It had taken at least five minutes for Emily to help him pull on a brown leather jacket that had been hanging in the corner, to safely cover the open back of his hospital gown. And then another ten minutes for her to assemble the wheelchair and drag him down from the bed to sit in it. A thin stain of red blood was spreading across the front of his gown, which meant he had probably torn a few stitches, but he was trying not to let her see. He couldn't stay in this room for a minute longer. He would go absolutely mad, he just knew it.

"Okay," Emily said, using the back of one hand to wipe the sweat from her forehead. "Now what are we supposed to do? Just wheel down the hallway and out the front doors? Because I'm pretty sure _someone_ will notice that I'm kidnapping a patient."

"That's a brilliant idea," Hatter said, gritting his teeth against the twin bursts of pain in his head and abdomen. "We'll just act like we own the place and swan on out, yeah?"

She shook her head at him with a heavy sigh. "You're crazy. I mean it. Literally _crazy_."

"I'm not going to argue." From what he'd seen of himself in action so far, he completely agreed with her assumption about the state of his mental health. "Now are we going to get a shift on or not?"

She grumbled something unsavory under her breath, but grabbed the handles of his wheelchair and pushed him across the room. She paused to open the door, then wheeled him out into the hall. It was completely empty, though voices came from under a closed door across the corridor.

"Where to now? The stairs?" she said sarcastically.

Hatter didn't even want to think about taking the stairs. He put one hand over his abdomen and felt a dampness through the cloth of his gown. "How about the lift? This wheelchair should fit in there," he grunted.

"Are…you okay?" Her eyes zeroed in on the front of his gown. She couldn't see any of the telltale blood, because Hatter's arm was firmly covering it. He was getting out of there, right now. End of story.

"You're not having second thoughts about helping me, are you?" he said, looking up at her while widening his eyes slightly. "I really can't stay in here a tick longer, trust me."

She nodded slowly. "But what if, you know, someone comes looking for you? Your mother or something?"

He swallowed convulsively, that little blue dress dancing in the back of his mind. "I don't have a mum. Let's get out of here, yeah?"

Emily didn't say anything else, for which he was grateful, and simply wheeled him down the hallway. As they came to a stop outside of the elevator, it clanged loudly, and the doors began to slide apart. She quickly pulled the wheelchair after her while darting through an open door just down the hall. She kicked it closed behind them with a muted thud. The room around them was completely dark, except for the tiny sliver of light leaking under the door.

"Quick thinking," Hatter said appreciatively. His great escape wouldn't have lasted nearly long enough if they had been caught by a doctor before even reaching the lift.

"If I get arrested for this, I'm so going to kill you," was all she said.

He shook his head, smirking. He had picked the perfect cohort to help him break out, he thought.

After a few seconds of silence, Emily carefully opened the door, just a crack. "The coast's clear," she whispered, after scanning the corridor outside. "Let's go."

* * *

Alice bit her lip as the elevator doors slid apart with a little dinging noise. Dr. Willing, the same man she had seen on the news, gestured for her to follow him, and started off down the empty hallway, saying something about how Hatter would likely be very glad to see her, and that hopefully she would trigger his memories.

She couldn't concentrate hard enough to listen to him more than vaguely, because she was a bundle of nerves. Dr. Willing had described all of Hatter's injuries to her in great detail, including how narrowly he had escaped any of his organs being permanently damaged. All she could think about was how scared Hatter must be, and how much pain he had to be in. The guilt wriggling deep in her stomach was almost unbearable.

As they walked down the hallway at a brisk pace, Carol reached out and patted Alice on the shoulder, noticing how nervous her daughter was. Alice shot her a grateful, if tremulous, smile.

"Here we are." Dr. Willing paused outside a closed door, under which shone a faint light. "Ms. Hamilton, please don't be discouraged if Mr. Hatter doesn't remember you right away. Regaining one's memory is a tedious process."

"Okay," she said, taking a deep breath and trying to look strong. "I'm ready." Even if he never remembered who she was, or what they had shared since first meeting in Wonderland, she was never going to give up on him. She'd been silently telling herself that since she and her mother had first arrived at the hospital. Hatter had been there for her all this time, and now it was her turn to be there for him.

Dr. Willing opened the door and stepped into the room beyond. "Sir, I believe this young woman is a–" He broke off, shoulders stiffening in disbelief.

Alice hurried to peer around him, to see what had made him stop, hundreds of horrifying possibilities rushing through her mind. _Hatter lying dead on the floor…_

But none of these imaginings could have prepared her for the reality of the situation. Hatter wasn't in bed, where he should have been. All that remained of him was a tiny stain of crimson blood on the green sheets of the bed. "What…where is he?" she demanded, voice coming out too shrill. She glanced wildly around the room, as though to see if he were hiding behind the curtains or under the bed, but there was absolutely no sign of her boyfriend.

Dr. Willing seemed flustered, for the first time since she had met him. "I don't know; he was here a few minutes ago. I'll…I'll have the nurses search this floor for him. I'm sure he's just…wandered to another room…" His voice trailed off, and he hurried from the room, leaving Alice and Carol alone.

Alice put her face in her hands and took several deep breaths.

"They'll find him, Alice. Don't worry," Carol said, though she didn't sound very convinced of that herself.

She could only hope that her mother was right.

* * *

As Hatter and Emily left the elevator on the first floor, they found the hallway empty except for a pair of women walking past, talking in quiet voices. "This seems to be going in our favor," Hatter murmured, while Emily began wheeling him towards the front doors. She didn't answer, gripping the handles of his wheelchair so tightly that her hands were white.

But he was right. The pair encountered no difficulties, and were soon standing on the street corner outside the hospital. Hatter felt freer already, even though he was still trapped in the cramped metal wheelchair.

The only disappointment was all the fumes and noise. For some reason, he had been expecting a city of absolute silence. He could see it in his head quite clearly, but that was apparently the only place it actually existed. Inside his head.

"So what are we supposed to do now?" Emily leaned down to make her face level with his. She looked irritated. "Got any other brilliant plans up your sleeve, Mr. Mastermind?"

"You could just leave me here, I suppose," he said, though the thought of being alone in this strange, crowded city actually terrified him. "I'm sure you have your own business to get up to, Emily." He tried to ignore the leering of a group of men passing by on the sidewalk, much too closely.

"I can't just leave you!" she exclaimed. "This is New York City, in case you've forgotten, and it's the middle of the night! Oh…maybe he _did_ forget." She muttered this last part to herself, then shook her head. "No, it would be stupid to save your life then leave you out here to get yourself killed. You can come back with me to my apartment tonight."

"Really?" Hatter tried to keep from grinning, because that would only show his immense relief. That city in his mind looked like home, but he hadn't the faintest clue how to set about finding it. Staying with Emily would be safe, and that was what mattered. Come morning, he could figure out what to do next.

"Just for the night. And don't be getting any ideas, Hatter, because we _won't_ be sharing the same bed," she snapped, poking him in the chest with a finger. He grimaced. "Oh, uh, sorry. But seriously. I don't know if you're the kind of guy to try to take advantage of a sweet young maiden such as myself, and you probably don't even remember. So keep a close watch on yourself, just in case."

He nodded slowly, more to appease her than anything else. "I'll be out of your hair by tomorrow, I promise."

She rolled her eyes. '"Sure you will." Then she flagged down a taxi, which screeched to a halt beside the curb. She opened the back door and started helping Hatter inside, grunting at the strain of lifting his weight from the wheelchair.

"Hey, you two! Stop!"

Hatter looked towards the voice, which came from the front doors of the hospital, just a few yards away. He recognized Nurse O'Connor immediately as she gestured wildly at them, then strode over.

"Quickly, we've got to go," he said, grabbing the edge of the taxi door and using it to haul himself inside. He fell sideways on the cracked leather seat, which smelled of wet dog and cigarette smoke. Tongues of fire traced through both his abdomen and his head, and it was all he do not to cry out.

Emily didn't notice, jumping in after him and slamming the door. "Step on it!" she shouted at the taxi driver, who complied without questions. The yellow cab screeched away from the curb, leaving behind the nurse just as she reached the curb. She stared after them, shouting something, and several other people ran out of the building to join her.

"Yes!" Emily did a victory dance while sitting down, making it more of a victory wiggle. She reached over and pulled Hatter into a sitting position. "We made it–" She broke off and stared at him, blanching. "Oh my God. Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

"About what?" he said weakly, fighting to ignore the waves of dizziness sweeping over him.

"_That_." She pointed at the blood all over the front of his gown. "Oh God. Now what are we supposed to do?"

Hatter couldn't find the strength to answer. Instead, he leaned his head back against the seat and inhaled a shallow, shaky breath.

Emily leaned forward towards the taxi driver, who had been watching the scene curiously in his rearview mirror. She quickly told him her address. The taxi dutifully turned in that direction, leaving the hospital far behind.

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So what do you guys think will happen next? *evil grin*


	6. Chapter Five

**Disclaimer:** Must I say it? _Alice_ doesn't belong to me. It belongs to SyFy and Lewis Carroll. And now I feel depressed… *sniffles*

**A/N:** As always, thanks for the brilliant reviews, everyone. You're the best!

* * *

Chapter Five

Alice pulled out her cell phone to check the time. Nearly ten minutes had passed since Dr. Willing had gone to search for Hatter. "What's taking so long?" she muttered, folding her arms.

She hadn't meant for her mother to overhear, but apparently she had spoken louder than she'd thought, because Carol said, "Alice, they'll find him. Don't waste your energy worrying. David will be just fine."

"But what if he isn't? What if he wanders out of the building?" she said, eyes widening as all the horrible possibilities flooded her mind. "His subconscious could lead him back to the Looking Glass, and it could be working, and he could go through!"

"But didn't you say that…Jack…shut it down?" Carol asked uncomfortably. "It can't be activated except from…that side, with the ring. Right?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah…but Jack could activate it again at any given time, Mom. Maybe I should go there and wait…"

"Alice, you're being silly. David could be just down the hallway in the restroom, and you're planning on going off to that old warehouse. Just wait until Dr. Willing or one of the nurses finds him. Don't panic over nothing."

Hatter most certainly wasn't nothing. He was the best thing that had ever happened to her, the one man she loved more than any other on the planet. The sweetest and sexiest boyfriend in all of her world or his. But Alice didn't want to fight with her mother right then, so she kept her lips firmly closed.

It was at that moment that a faint shout rang out from just below the window she stood by. "Hey, you two! Stop!"

Quickly, Alice stepped up to the window and pushed the thin curtains aside. She peered down towards the street. Thanks to the huge streetlamps and countless sets of car headlights, she easily saw the big yellow taxi idling on the curb, and the group of nurses running towards it. A figure in a black porkpie hat and brown leather jacket dived into the taxi, followed by a short blond girl dressed in jeans and a glittery green shirt. The taxi tore away from the curb just as the nurses reached it, and was soon lost in traffic.

"Was that…?" Carol, who had come over to look out when the shouting started, sounded amazed.

"Yes," Alice said, feeling as though she'd been punched in the gut. "Yes, that was him."

Her worst nightmare had come true. Hatter was gone, lost in New York City with absolutely no idea that she was waiting for him. And she was probably never going to see him again.

The tears came before she could stop them, rolling down her cheeks with incredible speed. She leaned heavily against the window and closed her eyes, fighting to keep the sobs from completely overtaking her, ignoring her mother's comforting hand on her back. But even with her eyes closed, all she could see was Hatter diving into that taxi and driving away from her forever.

* * *

"This is it," Emily said tersely to the taxi driver, as the yellow cab shot past the front doors of her apartment building. "That was – God, you idiot! Stop! Stop, already!"

Grumbling angrily under his breath, he backed up to a chorus of angry horns and audible curses from other cars driving past. "That'll be five fifty," he said through the fat cigarette dangling between his lips.

Emily forked over six dollars and threw them in his general direction, then kicked the door open and stepped out. A faint drizzle was coming down from the inky sky, and the pavement was already wet with it.

"Come on," she said, reaching inside to help Hatter out.

He gritted his teeth together and let her pull him out. The taxi whipped back out into traffic no sooner than his bare feet touched the ground, door slamming shut. He leaned heavily against his companion, trying not to show how much pain he was in. But despite his best efforts, his breathing was labored, and beads of sweat popped out all across his brow.

Seeing this, Emily bit her lip and dragged him towards the building, staggering under his weight. They managed to make it up the large stone steps, chipped with age, and into the rundown foyer. A large rat scrambled away into the shadows.

Hatter pushed himself away from her and slowly sank down onto an ancient red chair beside the front doors. He raised a shaking hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead, and glanced down at the front of his gown. The stain of blood had grown much larger now, and was completely obvious. There was no hiding it now. Emily stared at it with horrified fascination.

"Um, I know you didn't like it there and everything, but maybe we should take you back to the hospital," she said. "You don't look so–"

"No, no, I'm fine," he insisted, gripping the chair tightly with both hands and pushing himself back to his feet. He couldn't go back to that place; he just couldn't. "Let's get to your flat, yeah?" He let her loop his arm around her shoulders and stared with mounting dread at the thinly carpeted staircase in the far corner.

"It's this way," she said, seeing the direction of his gaze. She led him in the opposite direction of the stairs, down a dismally unlit hallway. The floor creaked under their combined weight with each step. Hatter felt strangely at home in these shabby surroundings, and vaguely wondered why. It was likely a clue to where he lived, where he belonged, but no images came to mind. He was too tired to try very hard, so he let it drop.

They finally came to a door with the numbers 112 marked on it in black paint. Emily pulled a key from her pocket and inserted it into the scratched lock, then pushed the door open and helped Hatter inside. The inside of the apartment was only dimly lit, the bare bulb on the ceiling flickering, and the front room was sparsely decorated with decrepit furniture and a small television set. The wallpaper was yellowed with age.

Emily noticed Hatter glancing about and her cheeks turned red with embarrassment. "Come on, let's go to my room. It looks like no one's here right now," she said, pulling him across the room and down a short hallway.

Hatter gestured over his shoulder, then wished he hadn't when a surge of pain ran through his abdomen. He shuddered and struggled to keep breathing until the pain passed. "I'll be fine with the sofa," he panted, as Emily kicked open her bedroom door and switched on the overhead light. "I don't want to be any trouble, Emily. Besides, won't your mum be angry if she finds a bloke in your bed?"

"I doubt it," she said darkly, carefully helping him sit down on the edge of her mattress. "And trust me, you don't want to be asleep out there tonight. Not when Zach–" She broke off and bit her lip, pausing for a long moment. "I'll be right back. You wait here."

"Yeah." He nodded jerkily and watched as she hurried from the room, leaving him alone. Putting one hand over his stomach, the cloth damp beneath his touch, he looked around in an effort to distract himself from the pain.

There wasn't much in the room in way of decoration. A dresser with several books and ceramic figures on top of it, a rickety wooden chair, and a locked trunk. There was one grimy window, with iron bars over it. From under the bed protruded a metal baseball bat and what appeared to be the handle of a tennis racket. He wondered if Emily liked sports; she didn't seem the type.

A floorboard creaked just outside the door, then she was back. She held a pair of gray sweatpants and a large white t-shirt in her arms. "These belong to my mom's _boyfriend_," she said, saying the last word like it tasted foul inside her mouth. "I got them out of the drier, so they're clean. They'll be kind of big on you, but better than that hospital gown."

She didn't give him a chance to answer, leaning to put the clothes down beside him. "Get the pants on while I see if I can find some bandages," she said, rushing from the room again.

Dizzy, Hatter blinked a few times, then picked up the sweatpants and held them out in front of him. They were about two times his size. _The mother must be dating a giant,_ he thought, and an image of a large bald man dressed in furs popped into his head. It was surprisingly realistic, but he shook it away. He had a very vivid imagination, apparently.

It took a bit of work to pull the pants on, but he finally managed it. His whole body was shaking as he got them to his waist and pulled the white string to tighten them. Just as he finished tying it off, Emily came back, this time carrying a red plastic box.

He looked at her without saying anything.

"You need some help?" she asked, picking up on his unspoken question right away. She put the box down and helped him shrug out of his jacket. He kept his lips pressed tightly together to keep from crying out. The pain was even worse as she pulled the hospital gown over his head, and this time a muffled whimper slipped through his lips, despite his best efforts.

Emily tossed the gown to the carpet, averting her eyes from his chest. She stared instead at his stomach. He flushed under the scrutiny of her gaze. "Oh God. We _really_ should take you back to the hospital, Hatter. I think you've…torn some stitches."

He didn't look to see how bad it was. "I'll be fine," he said. "I'm not going back there."

She sighed and closed her eyes for a few seconds. "Okay, fine. Whatever. Here." She rummaged around in the plastic box, then handed him two white tablets. "Aspirin. Do you need water, or can you swallow them dry?"

He studied the tablets with a furrowed brow. "What are they?"

"_Aspirin_," she said again, slowly, like she thought he had lost his mind.

"Never heard of them."

"Never heard of…oh, right. Amnesia. Aspirin is a pain medication, to keep your stomach from hurting so much. It's the strongest thing I've got, unless you want some of Zach's beer. But I don't think that would be very good for you in this condition, though…"

Hatter didn't think he'd ever heard of something like these tablets, even before he had lost his memories. He couldn't remember ever having something to take the edge off his pain before. But he shrugged and swallowed the two tablets without more questions, hoping they started to work soon.

"Okay, you might want to lie down now," she said. "I've got to take this old bandage off so I can change it, and it…might hurt a little."

He nodded, and slowly lowered himself onto his back. He didn't like being helpless like this, even though Emily certainly wasn't a danger to him. It just felt like it was against his very nature. His right hand involuntarily clenched into a fist, and he exhaled gustily.

"Okay, um…okay. I'm going to do it now," she said.

"All right," he said, staring up at the chipped white ceiling above him.

Then there was a ripping sound, and fire danced across his abdomen. He gasped, then bit down on his tongue to keep from saying something he might regret. The taste of rust flooded his mouth, and he choked.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry." She leaned over him, eyes wide with horror. "Hatter, Hatter, are you okay?"

"Fine," he managed, voice raw. "'ow bad is it?"

She disappeared from his line of sight again, and he heard her sharp intake of breath. "Um. You're bleeding. A lot. You need more stitches, Hatter."

The way she said it made him realize that it was even worse than he'd suspected. He closed his eyes. "I'm not going back."

"You could _bleed_ to death."

"Can't you…can't you fix it somehow? Please?" he pleaded with her. "Emily, I can't go back there. I just can't."

He heard her curse quietly. "Fine. I think I have something I can try, but it's going to hurt."

"Do it."

**

* * *

**

Please don't kill me for the cliffie. I know it's evil! *lol*


	7. Chapter Six

**Disclaimer:** Must I say it? _Alice_ doesn't belong to me. It belongs to SyFy and Lewis Carroll. And now I feel depressed… *sniffles*

**A/N: **Yes, I'm finally updating again. I lost my fan fiction mojo there for a while. O_O It was a dark time, friends, a dark time indeed. But I'm back now, so no worries! :D

Here's a bit of a recap, since it's been roughly SEVEN MONTHS since I last updated…  
_One morning at breakfast, Alice sends Hatter to buy milk, and speaks harshly to him. Hatter goes to get the milk, and on the way back, is attacked and mugged. He's knifed repeatedly in the abdomen, and hit very hard on the back of the head. When he doesn't come home, Alice doesn't know where he's disappeared to, and thinks that she made him angry at her, and maybe even caused him to go back to Wonderland. She doesn't know it, but Hatter has been taken to the hospital by Emily Cabot, a girl who found him bleeding in the alleyway and called 911. Emily lives with her mother and her mother's boyfriend Zach, who constantly forces sexual advances on her. Hatter has amnesia, and can't remember a thing about himself, or her. While talking to Carol on the phone, Alice sees on the news that a man matching Hatter's condition has been admitted to Good Hope Hospital. Hatter meets the girl who saved him, and she gives him his hat, which has his name stitched on the inside. He asks the girl, Emily, to break him out of the hospital, because being there is driving him mad. The two escape, just as Alice and Carol arrive, and Alice can only watch helplessly from a window as the taxi speeds away. Hatter and Emily reach her apartment, and he changes into a big pair of gray sweatpants that belong to Emily's mother's boyfriend. Hatter lying on the bed in her room, she takes the bandage off his abdomen, and sees that he's bleeding way too much. He refuses to let her take him back to the hospital. And so she says she has something she can try…_

* * *

Chapter Six

"Are you sure?" Emily asked, biting her lip. "I'm not lying when I say it's going to hurt. A lot. So this is your last chance to back out, Hatter. Or whatever your name is."

He nodded. "I can't go back there, I just can't. There's too many people, too much machinery. And too much _green_." He shuddered, then winced as pain ripped through his abdomen.

She sighed, then started for the door. "Okay, I'll be right back. You just, uh, stay there."

"I can't exactly go anywhere, can I?" Once she was gone, he lay very still on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. It hurt even when he breathed, so he tried not to do much of that, either. He was so very tired. It seemed like ages ago since he'd woken up in that terrible hospital place, with that doctor asking him so many silly questions. All he wanted was to go home, and find the wearer of that blue dress he'd seen inside his mind.

If only he knew where his home _was_.

Emily was back. She dropped a plastic box at his feet and pulled several objects out. Nervously, she glanced at him, then back at whatever she was doing. "What color?" she asked.

"Color?" he said blankly.

"Green, red, or black?"

He still didn't have the foggiest idea what she was talking about, and was in too much pain to bring himself to care that much. "Red," he said after some careful thought. Definitely not green, and black was simply too bland. Out of the choices, red sounded best.

"Okay," she said, and cleared her throat. "I'm going to stitch you up again."

"Do _what_?" he said, craning his neck in an attempt to see what exactly she was up to.

She showed him the needle in her hand, glinting wickedly, with a long strand of red thread trailing from it. "Lucky for you, I've been taking home economics in school," she said.

"I hate to tell you this, but that's not exactly reassuring," he said.

She glanced around, and reached for a tank top balled up at the end of her bed. "Bite down on this," she said.

He was dubious about this plan to say the least, but it was much better than the alternative. He knew he'd teeter off the brink into a sea of madness if he so much as had to _see_ the inside of that hospital room again. He let her put it in his mouth, and bit down as hard as he could into the fabric. He nodded to show that he was ready.

"Here goes," Emily said nervously, and pushed the needle in.

A scream tore itself from his throat before he could stop it, mostly muffled by the shirt stuffed in his mouth. His back arched up from the bed, and some dim part of him was aware that Emily was shouting for him to _stop moving!_ He couldn't bring himself to comply. There was so much _pain_…

And then he blacked out.

* * *

"Alice, dear, please calm down. All this crying won't help you get David back," Carol said, opening the door of the apartment her daughter shared with Hatter. The two women went inside, and Alice collapsed on the living room couch, tears rolling down her cheeks with incredible speed. Carol tsked a few times, and made her way into the kitchen.

"I'm never going to see him again, am I?" Alice wept, covering her face with her hands. "This is all my fault!"

"I don't see how any of this is your fault," Carol said from the kitchen. "You didn't attack David in that alleyway. And his escape is solely that hospital's fault, as far as I'm concerned. How could they not see him running off with that girl, right under their noses?"

It was like she hadn't heard a thing her mother had said. "If I didn't _have_ to have milk on my damn cereal every morning, none of this would be happening. He wouldn't have left this morning, and everything would still be just _fine_."

"Alice, you can't think that way. Stop beating yourself up and think of something we can do to get David back."

She sniffled a few times and went into the kitchen. Carol was at the counter, slapping together a pair of sandwiches. She gave her daughter an encouraging smile as Alice dropped heavily into a chair, which creaked under her weight. "Here, eat this. It's been a long day, and you need to keep your strength up."

"I don't want anything," she moaned, looking through her hands at the plate on the table in front of her. "All I want is for Hatter to come home." In her mind's eye, she saw herself snapping at Hatter about the milk, and him cheerfully going off to get it. He'd waved and blown her a kiss as he left, but instead of doing the same, she'd acted like he was stalling, and wished he would hurry up. That was the last time he had seen her. At the very thought, a stray tear slipped from her eye.

"For God's sake, don't be like this, Alice!" Carol exclaimed, uncharacteristically slamming a fist into the table. Alice jumped and stared at her with wide eyes. "Sobbing your eyes out won't find the boy! Get up and _do_ something!"

"Mom," she said, still a little startled, "I don't know what I _can_ do. I have no idea who that girl was, or where she's taken Hatter. How am I supposed to find him when he could be anywhere in the city by now?"

"We'll come up with something. You sifted through all the results on Parent Finder trying to locate your father, didn't you?" She paused for a moment, forehead wrinkling at the thought of her husband, lost to her forever now. Then she sighed and met Alice's gaze. "Can't you do something like that?"

"Hatter probably won't be in any databases, Mom, especially not Parent Finder," she said. A thoughtful frown creased its way across her brow. Her eyes abruptly brightened. "But maybe we could get some pictures of him, and pass them out around the neighborhood. And we could get a picture of that girl from the hospital surveillance system. Maybe someone will recognize her, and know where she lives."

"That's a good start," Carol said, taking a neat bite of her sandwich. "Alice, where are you going? At least eat your sandwich first."

"Not now, Mom," she called over one shoulder, racing into the bedroom. The sight of so many hats, hanging from doorknobs, the bedside lamps, and even the ceiling fan made a lump rise in her throat, but she swallowed it down and went to the dresser, where several photos that had been taken in the last few months adorned the gleaming wood surface. She picked up one of them, of her and Hatter at a piano concert a few months ago.

He grinned at her while holding her close, brown eyes sparkling, while she laughed and tried to shove him away. A deep sadness bloomed inside her heart just looked at the photo. He loved her so much, as much as she loved him. But she was constantly pushing him away, raising her voice like she had that morning. How had she let herself be so blind and _stupid_?

_Never again,_ she vowed silently, tracing Hatter's beaming face through the glass. Once she found him – and she _would_ find him – she was never going to fight with him again, especially not over something as trivial as a jug of milk. She was going to hold him close, and tell him often just how much she loved him. That was a promise.

"Alice?" Carol hovered in the doorway. "I just had an idea, honey. And I think it might work."

She clutched the photo frame to her chest. "What is it?"

"What if we go to one of the news stations? We could ask to go on and talk about Hatter, and show pictures of him and that girl there. That would get the word out much faster than simply going door to door, wouldn't it?"

"Mom, you're a _genius_!" She gave Carol a big hug, and started for the front door. "Come on, let's go!"

* * *

When he woke next, he had no idea how long he'd been out. The pain in his abdomen had become a dull throbbing. His head felt muzzy with sleep, and the ceiling above him was a bit blurry. He tried to sit up, moving carefully as he swung his legs over the bed. The room was empty; Emily had vanished.

A white t-shirt had been left at the foot of the bed for him. He moved slowly and carefully to lower the shirt over his head, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out. The shirt was too baggy on him, but he felt better having it on. He left the jacket hanging from a bedpost, but picked up the hat and settled it firmly onto his head.

It took some maneuvering to get off the bed, because his legs were weak, and the throbbing in his abdomen was hard to ignore, but he managed it after a few minutes. Gripping the wall with one hand, he made his way to the door and opened it. The hallway outside was also empty. He was definitely alone in this strange place, and he didn't like it.

"Emily?" he called thickly, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. "Emily, are you here?"

He hobbled down the hallway and into the kitchen area, where there was still no sign of Emily. He thought about calling out for her again, but spied the refrigerator and headed for it instead. Opening it up and bathing the dark room with a circle of golden light, he spied a pitcher of cold water just inside and pulled it out. He tried to find a glass, but the unfamiliar room was too difficult to maneuver, especially in the dark. He ended up sitting in one of the creaky wooden chairs and drinking straight from the pitcher. The water tasted good to his parched throat, but he longed for something else. He couldn't think what, but knew it should be warm and drunk from his favorite chipped mug.

He finished drinking and put the pitcher down. A chorus of cars and passing people filtered in from outside through the window over the sink. Hatter remained sitting for a few minutes, thinking of what to do next. It was fairly obvious that Emily had gone, leaving him here. Why, he didn't know. But one thing he did know was that he needed to get out of there, as soon as possible. Emily might never come back, and he needed to search for the wearer of that blue dress.

He closed his eyes, and could again see it there in his mind. This time, some features of a figure wearing the dress could be seen. Long dark hair, blue eyes… He frowned, but the hazy image didn't become any clearer. He muttered a curse and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. The back of his head was tender, but not bad.

Suddenly, light flooded the kitchen as someone flipped a switch. Hatter whirled, almost falling out his chair, and saw a mountain of a man standing in the doorway, hands clenched at his sides and eyes blazing.

"I'm sorry," Hatter stammered, staggering to his feet. "I didn't mean–"

"Who the _hell_ are you?" the man bellowed.

* * *

**Sorry about the long wait, everyone. Life's been crazy! Anyway, I'd appreciate some reviews, if any of you are still reading. Thanks so much. :D**


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